Speeding Cars
by axelkairi
Summary: Axel's story didn't begin in Organization XIII. Delve deeper into his roots with four parts in this angst-tastic fanfic: Lea, Axel, Xion, and Kairi! Minor character death, suggestive themes, super angst. Slight Axel/Xion, major Axel/Kairi
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.**

A/N: Wow, it's been a while, huh? Sorry! As I explained to a friend recently, I have phases in my life in which I am obsessed with a certain thing or activity. I just went through a reading phase (and I still have many books loaned out from the library which require my attention), and I am now consumed in a video game phase. I am currently playing Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core (which is fantastic, I might add), but that is not the point of this. The point is: I just finished Kingdom Hearts: 358/2 Days about a week ago, and it renewed my love for the Disney-Final Fantasy mashup. And since the game featured one of my all-time favorite characters, Axel, I naturally came up with an idea that cannot be ignored any longer. So this little fic was born! However, I am almost certain that it will be lengthy, and people who've known me for a while know what lengthy fics mean. I will try my best to finish this, but please bear with me and my awful habits of abandonment. Anyway! Here we go! Let's see where this guy takes us! Prepare yourself for super-angst!

**Speeding Cars**

**Prologue**

**Dying**

Dying is a strange feeling. Strange in the way that it is indeed a _feeling_, not just a sense, or a memory. I guess I should have memories of dying, since it's happened to me once before, but... well, you'll just have to wait for that story, won't you? It won't kill you to wait. Ha.

Anyway, dying is a feeling, and yet at the same time it doesn't really feel like one. My memories of feelings are pretty fuzzy - hey, it's been a long time since I was human - so I can't be completely sure, but it sure feels like one. It's like... like emptiness. It's a contradiction. Dying is the feeling of emptiness, but it's impossible to feel emptiness because emptiness is a void, without feeling. Confusing, right? But when you're dying, it makes sense. All of a sudden, when you're dying, everything makes sense.

So I lie there, in the middle of the void between Twilight Town and The World That Never Was, fading away. I'm aware of that little Keyblade Master - Sora something - kneeling next to me, as if he's sad that I'm... going away. That, I don't understand. That's one of the few things that doesn't make sense. I'm one of the bad guys, right? So why's the good guy feeling bad, when he's finally defeated the bad guy? Well, technically he never _defeated_ me - I sort of defeated _myself_ - but you get what I mean.

So I'm lying there, talking about Roxas to this kid, who's sort of Roxas anyway, right? That's what makes sense, anyway. Sora's like Roxas with an X. And my name - my old name, that is - Lea, is like Axel with an X. Same with everybody else in the Organization. Never figured out Saix's real name, though... Isa? Ah, whatever. It's not like it matters now.

"Axel," the Keyblade Master says, "what were you trying to do?"

Good question. I thought I had it all figured out at one point, but I was just kidding myself. I thought I could get Roxas back, and that other one... what's-her-name... I wanted them both back, so we could hang out at the Clocktower after our missions and eat ice cream. No... I wanted to go to the beach. We never got to go. Roxas was so excited to go, and what's-her-name sure could've used a vacation. I guess I could have, too, after everything that happened. When I made that promise... man, I didn't even have a clue as to what was gonna happen. Stupid, standard me, never looking ahead at the future. Just living in the now. Heh, look at what "living in the now" got me. A big, shadowy grave.

I won't lie to myself anymore. He's gone, and so is she. There's no getting them back now. So I answer truthfully, "I wanted to see Roxas. He... was the only one I liked... He made me feel... like I had a heart." I laugh, weakly, 'cause that's all I can really do at this point. "It's kind of... funny... You make me feel... the same..." A sort of pain hits me in the chest. I can't admit to that. He _is_ Roxas, sort of. Of course he makes me feel the same way. Now's not the time to get all sentimental. I only have a little time left to help this goofy kid. "Kairi's in the castle dungeon. Now go." I hold out my hand, surprised by the pain that shoots through me as I do so, and conjure up a portal to The World That Never Was.

I hope he leaves, and now. 'Cause right then, everything hits me. All the stuff that's happened in my life, and in my non-life... Everything just launches itself at me, one after another after another. I hope he leaves. 'Cause if he doesn't, he'll see me...

...cry.


	2. Chapter 1: Three

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.**

AN: Sorry it took so long! After the prologue, everything just sorta stopped. But I have my inspiration back, and I"m ready to roll! Here goes!

**Part One: Lea**

**Chapter One**

**Three**

I was three years old when everything started. I guess you could say that everything started when I was born, but I can't really remember anything from before I was three, and even then things are pretty hazy. But this one day I'll never forget. It's the only thing that's still crystal clear after all these years.

It was the day My mom brought my little brother home.

Well, it was actually the day _before._ She spent the night at the hospital. I remember that because that was the night I had my first nightmare. I dreamed that I was running from a huge cloud of darkness toward my parents, but then they faded to black and joined the cloud. And then the cloud started to look like a child...

Anyway. So I was playing Monopoly with my dad - and kicking his ass, by the way - when my mom stumbled her way down the stairs. Our stairs have a wall about halway up, so you disappear as you walk. She stuck her head past the wall to look at us, even though her stomach arrived much earlier than the rest of her did, panting like crazy, with a terrified look in her eyes. At the time, I had no idea why. I wondered if maybe she'd just read a scary story or something.

She hardly said anything. Her voice was raspy as she breathed, "He's coming."

My dad was instantly on his feet, knocking some colorful money out of the bank. I complained loudly at this, but he didn't pay any attention to me. I reached out to tug at his pants, but he was out of my reach, racing to the stairs to take my mom's hand and lead her to the door.

"Dad!" I called after him, but he slammed the door without even a goodbye. I sat there for a while, bewildered. They'd never ignored me like this before. I was all they paid attention to, all they talked about, the only thing they loved, and they let me know it every day.

I had no idea then that my life as I knew it would change from that day on.

Hours passed, and I got a call from my dad. He said he'd be back late, and that mommy was spending the night at the hospital. I knew well enough that the hospital was a bad place, so I asked if she was sick. He said no, she was perfectly fine. I thought, if she was fine, why was she sweating so much? I sweated when I got the flu. Did she have the flu?

My dad told me to clean up my toys and that he'd call the neighbor girl to babysit me until he came home. Before I could ask any more questions, he hung up.

The neighbor girl came over a few minutes later, but it felt like forever. I'd hardly moved from my spot on the floor, and the Monopoly game lay there just as my dad had left it. Chelsea - that was her name - kept trying to get me to clean it up, but I refused each time. Then, she started to put it away herself, and I yelled at her and started crying, and wouldn't tell her why. I'd wanted to wait until my dad came home so we could finish our game. If we could just finish our game, I'd know that everything was fine.

Even though I was worried, it didn't hurt my appetite. I ate my Spagettio's without complaint, shoveling the food into my mouth. I got very, very tired after eating, and Chelsea wanted me to go to bed, but I wouldn't. I had to wait for my dad. We had to finish our game.

It was almost midnight when he got back. He looked exhausted, and a little sweaty himself, and when he walked through the door he ran a hand through his damp hair and collapsed on the couch.

I ran up to him, all thoughts of sleep gone, a huge smile on my face. "Daddy! Daddy! Come on! Let's finish!" I tugged impatiently at the sleeves of his shirt.

He groaned and waved me away, splaying the fingers of one hand over his face. "Later, Lea."

"But Daddyyyyy!!" I whined, stomping my feet. Why wouldn't he just do it?

This was met with an even louder groan, almost angry sounding. "Lea, just go to bed. You shouldn't be up this late."

"But I had to wait for you!" I argued. "We have to finish our game!"

My dad's shoulders slumped and he leaned his head back, letting his hand fall. He was too tall for the couch; his head leaned back so far that all I could see was his jawline. I saw his chin move as he spoke. "Alright, buddy. We'll finish it tomorrow, okay?"

I pouted, but figured this was the best I was going to get. "Promise?"

His cheeks moved as if in a smile. "Promise." He gestured to the stairs. "Now go to bed, okay?"

I blinked. "But mommy's not here." My mom always tucked me in before I went to sleep, since before I could remember. I felt like I couldn't sleep unless she did.

He muttered something that sounded like "Oh, right," and lifted his head. It seemed like just doing that was a big strain on him. "How about this?" he started with a smile, but even at that age I could tell it wasn't genuine. "Chelsea will tuck you in. How's that?" Chelsea smiled at me from behind his shoulder.

I crossed my arms, stubborn. "It's not the same."

Chelsea made her way over to me and knelt down next to me. "Don't worry, Lea," she said. "I'll make sure there aren't any monsters. You'll be safe with me."

"I'm not scared of monsters," I grumbled, but let her pick me up and take me to my room anyways. By the time we got there I was tired again, and went to sleep easily.

When my nightmare hit, I woke up frightened. The darkness of my room was overpowering, closing in on me just like the dark shadow of my dreams. I ran through it, tears in my eyes, and threw open the door of my parents' room. I needed my dad to tell me that all those scary things weren't real.

He wasn't there. I went through the house, turning on all the lights I could reach, but he wasn't anywhere. His car wasn't in front of the house, either. He'd left to be with my mom, and I was all alone. I only had myself, and the darkness, for company.

Little did I know that that was how it would be for a pretty long time.

* * *

The next day dawned, but I didn't get up. I slept as long as I could, and when I woke up, I went back to sleep. I saw no reason to go downstairs; I knew no one would be there.

I waited for eternity, and when I was close to crying for the thousandth time, I heard noises outside that sounded like a car. A door opened and closed.

My eyes went wide and I launched myself out of my bed, racing down the stairs and tripping more than once. All I knew and all I cared about was that they were home, and I wouldn't be alone anymore. They could shower me with attention, love me, and everything would be just like it was before.

But they hardly paid any attention to me. They sat me down, mom with a blanketed bundle in her arms, and explained to me that I had a new brother. I barely knew what a brother was, and this bundled up thing with an alien face didn't look much like one. The only thing I recognized about it were its eyes: they were my mom's eyes. Instead of my blazing red ones, this thing had clear blue eyes, big and innocent. Just like him, as I would later find out.

I hated him from the moment I saw him.

Suddenly, everything was all about him. Avery was what they called him. He took away my attention, my love, my family, and I hated him for it. When I was alone in a room with him - which never really happened, since he was never out of their sight for more than half a second - I'd give him dirty looks, and it almost seemed like he understood.

Everything began with Avery. And, as you'll find out, everything ended with him, too.

* * *

A/N: I'm not sure I mentioned this in the Prologue, so just in case I didn't, I'll say it here. THIS IS NOT AXEL'S REAL LIFE STORY. Go on Final Fantasy Wiki if you want that, or play Birth By Sleep. This is just what I envision his past to be like. So I don't want anybody saying "Um, this isn't right" okay?

Anyway, hope you liked the first chapter! Next one will be out whenever.


	3. Chapter 2: Five

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.**

A/N: Wow it took a while for me to update. Sorry about that! I hope you guys like this so far! I just wrote this while I was supposed to be working on a paper for English, and now I'm stuck at home, the rough draft is due tomorrow, and I _really_ don't wanna do it =( I hate papers. It's a stupid research paper that I've already done a million times before, figuratively speaking. The only thing she's grading us on is how well we can cite sources and junk. I don't wanna write the paper!!! =C Sigh, well, I'd better get started. Oh! And good news for those of you who love/d my story The Iris and The Lily: I'm continuing it! I'm beginning another Avatar craze, so I have the inspiration to go further! I still have a long way to go, so hurrah! Thanks to deviantart, for all the Zuko pictures that make me love him, and to ba77ousai, for writing The Girl of Ba Sing Se, my forever inspiration for anything Avatar that I write. Now, to write that paper... =(

**Chapter Two**

**Five**

Things had changed so much since Avery arrived. I had disappeared from my parents' eyes. Everything was Avery. Avery was crying? Time to ignore Lea. Avery needed to be changed? Time to ignore Lea. Avery was sleeping? Hey, let's go watch him and ignore Lea. Good plan, guys. Real good.

I'd thrived on attention. Still do, in a way. And since I had become invisible, I tried everything I could think of to get it back, short of hurting Avery. I hated him, hated him for taking my parents away from me. But I couldn't hurt him. It felt wrong. So I just had to divert mom and dad's attention back to me.

Naturally, I got in a lot of trouble.

See, when kids want attention – when kids want _anything_, really – they go about getting it using the most extreme ways possible. Water balloons. Paint balloons – oh yeah, I got it big time for that one. Never looked at green paint the same way again. Pots and pans all over the floor, the carpet, the garage. Opening the paper shredder and "decorating" the living room. And those are just the ones I remember. Trust me, there were plenty others.

I sure got their attention, but not the attention I wanted. They yelled at me, punished me, scolded me. I guess that was better than being ignored. But then, when I was sitting in a corner, contemplating my actions – or pretending to – they would walk away, climb back up the stairs, and out of my sight. I could hear giggles and coos through the ceiling. Back with Avery, ignoring their obviously troubled son.

Things just got worse from there.

Since I couldn't get love from my parents, I was forced to use other sources. Classmates. Teachers. Animals. Anything that would look at me, talk to me, wouldn't run off to my stupid baby brother. Once, in kindergarten, I drew a picture of an orange dinosaur. The teacher, a middle-aged blonde woman, complimented it and said I had real talent. I realized that art could be my golden ticket, could make me shine brighter than Avery's blue eyes. I started drawing all the time, getting better and better, until the teacher started putting my drawings up on her wall. She even told me she'd called my parents to set up a meeting about my ability, that they should look into it. They didn't show up. Avery got sick.

I started not to mind, though. With everyone else's eyes on me, I didn't need theirs. I'm not sure if I ever believed it though. But that's not the point.

The point is a girl. She was four and a half at the time. That's what she told everyone when she met them. That's what she told me, when she bounced over to the table just after recess, eyes glowing, and stuck her hand out to me. "Hi!" she said loudly. "I'm Marley, and I'm four and a half!"

I was a little taken aback by her energy, so used to silence in my home. But I quickly got over it. I welcomed her smile, her life. It let me know that there was still life around me, that things weren't bad everywhere, just at home. I shook her hand, mine a little bigger than hers. "My name's Lea."

"I like your picture." She scrambled up into the seat next to me, pointing at my drawing of a jet flying through clouds. She pronounced it "pik-shur."

"Thanks." Somehow, when she said she liked it, it meant more to me than the teacher complimenting me. Back then, I didn't know what I felt for her. I was afraid, and confused. After that first meeting of ours, we talked more and more, even hanging out on the swings and going down the slide after each other, sometimes for the whole recess time.

I liked being around her, but on the other hand, she had cooties. I couldn't get cooties! I had to stop hanging out with her. Immediately. But how to make her go away?

One day, completely on impulse, I unexpectedly found the perfect way to make her and her cooties stay away from me for good.

I stuck gum in her hair.

I didn't feel bad at all. It was hilarious! I was used to the sound of crying by that time, so when she burst out in tears, it didn't halt my laughter in the slightest. I felt a slight pang somewhere in my chest, but I figured it was just from laughing so hard. The teacher came over and pulled her away, yelling at me while trying to comfort her. It was a huge scene, and one the teacher didn't forget. She never complimented me on my artwork again.

I regretted doing that to Marley. I'd lost my only sources of attention. My art was nothing now, no one paid any mind to it. No one paid any mind to me.

Back to square one. And even though paint balloons were a big no, there was plenty else I could still do. So I kept planning, kept misbehaving, kept getting in trouble. And it lasted for the rest of my life.


	4. Chapter 3: Seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.**

A/N: OMG I love this chapter so much. I hope you do, too! Please review!

**Chapter Three**

**Seven**

Being bad wasn't a goal anymore. It was who I was. I'd long abandoned the hope that my parents would ever love me like they loved Avery, especially after all the trouble I caused them. They had created me. Now they had to live with the consequences.

Two years had passed. Marley moved away. They said her dad got a new job, but I always thought it was because of me. She had never forgiven me for sticking that gum in her hair. She'd had to get a haircut, trimming the locks that reached the bottom of her back up to her neck. A bob wasn't a good look for her. Every time she looked at me, she got this sad face, and turned away, looking like she was going to cry. Eventually, she just stopped looking at me.

I got over it. Now in second grade, I had more to worry about than some girl. My parents had begun hounding me about grades, probably hoping to drill into my brain the importance of education when I was young. My dad would make me stay up late and listen to him rant about how he wished he'd had the chance for an education like mine when he was little. Always telling me how lucky I was, and how I should be grateful. How I didn't deserve such "special treatment."

Sometimes I'd stay up late anyway, even when he had nothing to say. I'd hear him downstairs, crawl softly down the stairs, and wait, hiding just behind the wall so he wouldn't see. He was on the phone, talking in hushed tones, sounding urgent.

"I know," he said a lot. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, I'll get it. Yes, I promise." He promised to this person a lot. I could always tell that he was talking to that man because his voice leaked out through the ear of the phone. It was muffled, but always deep and gravely, with some sort of accent I hadn't heard before.

One night, my dad was whispering so quietly that I could only hear his voice, but couldn't make out any words. I was so curious, wondering what he was promising this time, what he was asking for. Mostly it was more time, but sometimes the word "money" came into the equation. Whenever he talked about money, he started sweating. I could tell by his hurried breath. It was the same thing he did when he came home from the hospital, when Avery was born (yes, by then I had figured out the whole birds-and-bees deal).

Anyway, so he was talking really quiet, and I couldn't quite hear. He was talking about my mom, I could hear that much. Her name was mentioned more than once. Sometimes my dad would raise his voice, but then get quiet again suddenly, like he was afraid someone was listening. That worried me; could he see me? I couldn't take the chance.

I turned to hurry up the steps, but my feet tangled and I fell, slipping down one step, two, three. My fate was sealed. Even if he couldn't see me, he would've heard the sound, and I'd never be able to escape in time.

I was right. My eyes, wide as baseballs, were trained on him the very second he whipped around to see me. His eyes were wide, too, but there was something other than fear in his expression. I could see it from the slant of his eyebrows, an anger heightening the terror already shown.

He looked like a madman. I'd never before been so afraid of my father.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, apparently forgetting to whisper. A loud noise came out from the phone, and my father sucked in a breath and turned back around, saying quietly, "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean you. My son. I was talking to- my _son_, I said." He let out a sigh. "No, the other one."

A wild thought flashed through my mind, that I could run while he was distracted, and I acted on it. I was surprised at my desperate need to run – I'd never felt that I had to run away from my own parents – but I hardly thought about it.

One knee up, one leg up. There, now just push forward and run. Go, now!

I chanced one last glance at my dad, and froze. There was the look in his eyes again, staring straight at me. The ferocity of his gaze burned away any thought of escape, and I slowly sat on the step behind me, tense and frightened. He looked at me for a moment longer, telling me silently to stay put, and turned away to deal with his phone call.

I sat there, getting more scared with every passing minute. He sounded so frantic, so scared himself. What was he scared of? His own father? But he was gone, dead. I hadn't heard from him or about him since before I can remember. So who could it be?

Those were my thoughts, when I could overcome my fear long enough to actually think. After a long, long time, my dad ended the call, sighed heavily, and sank into one of the couches against the wall. I thought he forgot about me. I prayed that he forgot about me. But I had no such luck. He raised his hand and beckoned me to him, without even raising his head. I could've left for all he knew! But something told me that I wouldn't have gone very far without him knowing.

I walked slowly down the stairs, across the floor, and then stood in front of him, waiting for whatever he was going to do. He did nothing. I shuffled my feet, anxiety replacing fear, until he said, "Sit down." He patted the space beside him.

I did as I was told, keeping my distance but being respectable. A good twelve inches or so separated us. I said nothing. I was too scared of saying the wrong thing. Normally I wouldn't care, but that night felt different.

My dad sighed again, rolling his shoulders in a backwards circle without hardly moving his body. "What did you hear?" he asked.

I swallowed. "Nothing."

He paused, and then asked again, "Lea? What did you hear?"

I chewed on my lip, and then stopped because it hurt. "You were just talking to someone."

"About what?"

I thought. I shouldn't tell him everything. He'd get mad. _He's already mad,_ I thought. _Why not just tell him? It's not like he can get madder._ "Time. Money. Mom."

My dad didn't answer for a long time. Silence stretched between us like a giant rubber band. Finally, he said, "But you don't know who Daddy was talking _to_, right?"

I shook my head honestly.

He was quiet for a moment, then lifted his head, a tentative smile on his face. He patted my shoulder. "Alright then. I'm going to tell you something, but you have to tell me something, okay?"

"Okay."

"Tell me that you won't tell Mommy about this."

Why shouldn't I tell my mom? But my curiosity won out, and I said, "I won't tell Mommy."

"Good." His smile was bigger. "Now, listen close. I know something that Santa's going to bring you for Christmas!"

I frowned and leaned away. "Santa's not real!" I protested.

His smile faltered. "Who told you that?"

"Some kids at school," I said. "They laughed at me for saying he was."

"Well, don't let them laugh at you. He's real, all right. And I know what he's got in his big Christmas bag for you!"

"What?"

"A brand new action figure!"

I gasped, and with that, my dad sent me to bed, despite my questions: What kind? Was it awesome? How did he know?

I slept well that night, and when I woke up, I hardly remembered anything from that night.

But two days later, when my dad was late coming home and my mom was worried, something slipped out of my mouth that really, really shouldn't have.

"Where is he?" my mom asked, annoyed, mixing powdered cheese together with milk and butter for me and Avery's Mac 'n' Cheese.

"Maybe he's out talking to that guy," I offered, not really thinking.

"What guy?" she asked, humoring me.

"That man he's always talking on the phone to at night."

My mom stopped, and turned to me slowly. "What do you know about this man?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. He's got a really deep voice. And Daddy got all scared when I heard them talking. Can we eat now?"

My mom blinked, as if torn from thought. "Of course, sweetie," she said in her usual chipper tone, but something sounded off. I didn't pay it any mind.

That night, my mom and dad had their worst fight, the first one that was ever loud enough for me to hear. They were screaming, things were breaking, doors were slamming. I lay in my bed, shaking. My door opened after a while, and for a second I was frightened that it might be my dad, but it was just Avery. He had tears running down his face, his blue footsie pajamas looking black in the night, his blankie clenched tight between his fingers. He didn't say anything, and he didn't have to. That night, he wasn't my enemy. He was my scared little brother, and I was his strong big brother. I let him sleep in my bed, and told him that everything would be fine, everyone would be happy once he went to sleep, but he had to go to sleep. Eventually, he did. But I didn't. That night, I think Avery was the only one who slept.


	5. Chapter 4: Eight

**Speeding Cars**

**Part One: Lea**

**Chapter Four**

**Eight**

Things weren't good from then on. My mom and dad didn't love each other anymore. They faked it, pretended. They would kiss and hug and coo at each other, but I knew. There was an air around them filled with hate, veiled by an adoring smile. I learned how to lie from them. I became a really great liar.

They fought a lot. Never as bad as that first night, but always loud and scary. Eventually it became so routine that I would lay awake, annoyed, and wait for them to give up and go to sleep. I'd had nightmares for a while, but after a few months they stopped. Concealed hate and whispered threats became the soundtrack for our home, though no one on the outside would know that. "We have to keep up appearances," my mom would say. _You should stop caring about what they think so much,_ I yelled silently, _and start working on your marriage. It's tearing us apart._

My dad was talking on the phone with that man even more. He'd arrange to go see him. He didn't even try to hide it anymore. He'd grab his coat – his "good" coat – and announce that he was leaving to meet with "Johnny", his old friend. From the bruises that he got sometimes, I doubted they were as good of friends as he said they were.

One night was exceptional. My parents argued like they had on the first night, and Avery, once again, came to stay with me. I cringed, wondering why he was still acting like a kid when he was already five, but said nothing. We just talked, and he seemed okay, but I could see tears in the corners of his eyes that didn't go away. I wanted to hug him, but didn't. I'd grown to like him more now that he didn't get all the attention. Now that our parents' marriage was in trouble, they didn't pay attention to either of us. He was a soldier with me, surviving in this empty void. I respected him like I respected myself.

School was normal. A typical third grader's day. The class was excited about summer, in only a little over a month. The calendar on the wall counted down the days, with red 'X's marking the progress of time. The bus was loud, the walk home warm with a slight spring breeze. Standard. Avery walked beside me, telling me about what he drew in kindergarten that day, and how the teacher loved it. He had the same kindergarten teacher I had. I wondered if she ever compared Avery's drawings to mine. He was a lot better in my opinion, and he didn't even have to practice. He was always the talented one. The good one. I… I envied him a little, I guess.

We got home, and… Damn, it's still hard to remember this part. Not that it's fuzzy; it's one of the clearest memories I have. And that's what makes it hard.

My mom and dad had been murdered. There was blood everywhere; on the walls, in the carpet, soaking into the coach. Not a whole lot, just splatters here and there and just all over. They'd been beaten to death. My mom had been raped and strangled. My dad had bruises everywhere, small cuts all over from knives and brass knuckles.

My dad had been making deals with the local Mob. He never paid up. That's what he was always talking about, and until then it hadn't made any sense. Now it did. Everything made sense.

My mom had known for a pretty long time what deep shit we were in, but she was in denial. She thought that everything would just go away, and got mad when it didn't. She was pissed because her fantasy was shattered, and my dad was pissed because his family's life was being threatened and he was too selfish to pay them back.

I didn't let Avery see. I was the first one in the door, and the next second I was pushing him outside, telling him to go to the neighbor's house (Chelsea had long since moved out) and ask to use their phone to call the police. He did, and soon our house was crawling with gossiping neighbors, trying to tiptoe over one another to see the gruesome details. The cops held them at bay, but I really couldn't have cared less. They were dead; it happened all the time. It didn't matter much to me that they were my parents. They hadn't been parents to me for a long time.

Besides, their deaths were only the little tip of the scale that sent our lives spiraling out of control. If not for that one day, none of this would've happened. Sometimes I wonder, if I could go back and change it, would I? Would I save them, and live a quiet, normal life? Have a wife, a family, a house, maybe a dog or two?

Maybe. But none of that typical stuff matters to me. All that mattered was… I'm getting ahead of myself. Can't let you know too much too early, right? Naw, that wouldn't be fair.

So the cops took away the bodies and got everyone to go home. We got to take a trip to the hospital, and I pestered the cops until they got one of the nurses to tell me what happened. They pulled up all my family's records, and concluded that my dad had been borrowing money illegally. They never found the Mob.

They told us that we had no home now. That wasn't true. We had a home, a house, back in our neighborhood. The only difference would be that mom and dad wouldn't be there. That seemed to be the only thing that mattered to them, though. Kids without parents needed to be dealt with.

So they sent us off to St. Almus's Orphanage, named after a loving Cistercian monk. Nuns lived there, and God was shoved down our throats every morning, afternoon, and night. I practically dreamt about him because of all the worshipping going on. The nuns were impressed by this, very impressed. I'll admit, I embellished many of the stories I told them, just so they'd pay attention to me. The rest of them I just plain made up. They called me gifted, and for once in a very long time I felt loved again.

Meanwhile, they were calling Avery names, hating him, because he questioned their faith. He didn't understand God and His teachings, and asked question after question. When the nuns couldn't respond, they told him to stop asking and pray to God for the answers. Some protective part of me got pissed at them for treating him badly. But the other part was too exalted by all the attention they showered over me.

The cops came again and we were brought to them. One of them was the sheriff. He told me that my father left me a trust fund of 5 million dollars to access when I turned twenty-one. Turning twenty-one instantly became my goal in life.

But I sure as hell knew that I wasn't going to live out the rest of my years in this dump of an orphanage.

"Avery," I stage-whispered to the bed next to me. He shifted in his sleep, and I tried again. "Avery!"

He groaned and turned over to face me, squinting his tired eyes. "What?"

"Are you happy here?" I asked. I knew he wouldn't leave if I just up and said "Hey, let's get a move on!" I had to trick him into it, make him think it was his idea in the first place.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not really."

"I thought so. What do you think would make it better?"

"Um… Mom and dad?"

I waved my hand. "You and I both know that's not gonna happen."

"Well, then… maybe I could talk to the nuns –"

"They won't listen and you know it."

"Um… I guess we would have to leave."

I sat up in my bed. "Avery, that's it! I hadn't even thought of that!"

Avery blinked. "I'm not being serious. I was just saying…"

"No, I like the idea. We don't need to stick around here anymore! We've gotten by on our own before –"

"We have?"

"Yeah, don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Nevermind. Don't you think it would be great? Living on our own, no rules, doing as we please, no stupid nuns telling us what to do? Wouldn't you like that?"

"I guess…"

"Then we'll go. Tomorrow. Pack up your things when they let us nap after lunch, and we'll leave at night."

I didn't give him time to answer. I said a quick good night, and my tone was final. He didn't say anything else for the rest of the night.

I woke up thinking of how to escape. I ate breakfast thinking of how to escape. Up until lunch, I thought of nothing else but of how to escape. By the time evening fell, I'd found the perfect plan.

Avery and I stuffed most of our belongings into one suitcase, one that I would carry. We'd spent our naptime tying together bed sheets into a makeshift rope that we dangled from the window and shimmied down onto the damp ground. We'd already gone almost a block away before we heard police sirens. I tore into an alley, dragging Avery behind me. We hid behind a dumpster for two hours, to be safe, and Avery fell asleep despite how scared he was.

That night was the first night of our new lives. It would be hard to get used to. We'd have to face many trials along the way. But on the way to what? Even now, I'm not so sure where we were headed. We were just trying to survive. To keep living, just long enough for me to turn twenty-one. Always 'just long enough.'


	6. Chapter 5: Nine

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.**

A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I'm having a bit of writer's block lately, so I'm going to try my best and write this. I'm at school, too, and for some reason I always write really well in this story when I'm at school, so hopefully that'll help, too! Maybe it's the atmosphere of desperation that fills this place that helps me write. You know that feeling: "I have to finish this or I will face dire consequences!" Well, here goes! Hope you like!

**Speeding Cars**

**Part One: Lea**

**Chapter Five**

**Nine**

It wasn't too hard to find a place to live. Where we'd run to, there were plenty of deserted buildings, run-down wooden clubhouses, and always the warm and welcoming alleyway here and there. We moved around a lot, never letting ourselves stay in one place for more than three days. We traveled lightly, keeping only what we needed. But it wasn't enough.

It was night, and Avery and I had found an empty treehouse in someone's backyard. From what I could hear and see, they didn't have children; the treehouse must've been built by the previous owner. The tree was dying, the leaves turning brown at the edges, and with each movement either one of us made there was a complementary creak from the boards beneath us. Avery had worried about whether the wooden box would even stay in the tree with our weight on it all night, but I wasn't scared. It had some moth-eaten blankets and an old mattress; more than we could begin to ask for. More than we'd had in weeks.

Avery lay a few feet from me. I wouldn't let him get too close. I'd started to get annoyed with him lately. All his whining was really starting to piss me off. He had no reason to whine. We were _free_, finally. He should be happy. Instead…

"I'm hungry," Avery moaned in his girlish voice.

"Yeah? Me, too," I snapped, turning my back to him and bringing the blanket tighter around me.

He was quiet, and the silence almost lulled me to sleep. Then I heard a noise that sounded like a bear roaring for her cubs.

I groaned and sat up. "You're really _that_ hungry?" I asked.

Avery nodded to me, eyes big, his still-small hands clutching his blanket to his chin. I'd given him the mattress, out of the kindness of my heart. Right.

I sighed heavily. "Alright," I conceded. "I'll find us something to eat."

I stood up and felt a tugging at my pants leg. For a brief moment, I was transported back six years ago, to the day when my life went wrong. When I'd tried to reach out to my dad, but he left anyway…

I shook my leg and looked down at my brother. "I'll be back soon," I reassured him. "You'll be fine by yourself."

"But," he said, "I'm scared."

I exhaled quietly and kneeled down next to him. "Don't be," I told him. I lifted up his blankie and handed it to him, which he took and immediately clasped to his chest, jabbing his nose into it. "You've got your blankie to keep you safe, remember?"

A small smile lit up his face, and he nodded.

I stood up. "Be back soon," I repeated, and slung myself out of the treehouse, landing very un-gracefully on the back lawn. I hopped the paint-chipped fence and made my way down to street into town. The walk made me jittery, always looking around, keeping everything in my line of sight. Who knew? The cops might still be looking for us. I had to be careful. Not to mention, this was the "bad" part of town. Had to careful anyway around here.

The brightly lit sign of a McDonald's signaled my arrival at the town's square, shop central. I turned left at a wide street and followed it until I came upon BigMart, the corporate nightmare of supermarkets. The doors opened swiftly for me, and I shrugged my hands into my pockets, trying to look as intimidating as a nine year old could look. Walking around, so many things tempted me. I had never really thought this whole 'running away' thing all the way through; I'd never realized how much I'd have to give up. I'd thought of it as a thing of glory, taking my destiny into my own hands, and the rest would come naturally. Now, seeing all these things that I couldn't have, it made me sad. Then, it made me angry. This was _my_ world, _my_ life. I'd do what I wanted with it.

Seeing a small package of KitKats, I looked around discreetly and, satisfied that no one was watching, stuffed it in my shirt. A jolt went up my spine immediately, and I smirked. Another glance around. No was had seen me. I smiled.

I went around the store, finding this and that, nothing refrigerated, nothing frozen, nothing that needed to be cooked. Mostly candy, some biscuits, some beef jerky, and a HotWheels convertible. I figured we could both use something to play with, even thought I'd probably be the only one interested in it. Avery would most likely just keep sitting on that mattress and sniff at his blankie. He said it smelled like home. After all this time, I doubted it, but I didn't say anything. He could use the comfort, and I wasn't about to burst his bubble. I was a bad kid, but I wasn't cruel.

A few years back, when my mom would sometimes take me shopping with her, I never really paid attention to the whole shopping experience. I knew that you had to get your stuff, go to the cashier, he bagged it for you, and you went on your way. My mom always paid the cashier after he bagged our stuff. So, wouldn't it make sense just to skip the cashier part and go right on to the leaving part? Made sense to me.

Walking stiffly, trying to keep everything from falling out of my clothes to the ground, I made my way to the exit. I thought I had it in the bag. Food for a week!

The second I passed through the automatic doors, an alarm went off. Electronic sirens rang, and a distorted woman's voice told me to stop and called for an employee. I turned, panicked, and saw someone in a red shirt with a nametag walking swiftly toward me.

I bolted.

I heard them yelling after me, but I didn't slow down. I ran like my life depended on it, which it sort of did. I thought that if I got caught I'd go to jail, and then what would happen to Avery? Would he go back to that orphanage? I wouldn't do that to him. I couldn't imagine him living in that place without me to stand up for him.

I ran until my chest burned and my legs spasmed. The cold night air made my throat dry, and I coughed. It tasted like blood. My knees locked, and I tripped and fell on the cement. What little breath I had was knocked out, and my head spun. I lay there for a little while, catching my breath, waiting until my throat stopped bleeding. When I was ready, I stood up shakily, and found the path back to the treehouse, where Avery lay waiting for me. I didn't think about anything; my heart was pounding, my head was pounding.

I loved it.

A smile broke out on my face. Damn, what a rush! I'd never felt so scared in my life! I laughed out loud. _This even beats a roller coaster ride!_ I thought.

When I came back to the treehouse, Avery was asleep. I shook his shoulder gently, and he mumbled and blinked sleepily at me. His mouth opened to say something, but when I held up the bag of biscuits he fell silent and gaped.

I smirked. "You still hungry?"

He nodded vigorously and reached out for the bag, but not taking it. He waited until I gave it to him, then his hand dove inside and pulled out a fluffy ball of bread, greedily chomping on it.

I smiled softly, knowing I had done well. My brother and I were safe, fed and, most importantly, alive. I felt powerful. I had taken control of my life, and it had paid off.

Things were good for a long time. Months passed; I would go out at night while Avery slept and get whatever we needed for free – I hated calling it "stealing" – and we'd live a happy life of freedom.

That is, until Avery found out.

I'd gone out for a usual hunt, but things got a little out of hand. Turns out the employee of that store was really into his job, and chased me down the block. Avery and I were camped out close by; I couldn't let him find us. Losing the guy for just a moment, I woke Avery up and told him we had to go. He asked where, but I didn't listen. I just told him to run. He got up and ran, with me just behind. We must've run a whole block when he stopped, turned to me, and yelled, "Wait! My blankie!"

"Avery, we don't have time for this!" I grabbed his arm and jerked him forward.

He started to cry. "But_ Lea!_"

I growled through my teeth and stopped. "Fine!" I roared at him. I pushed him behind a tree. "Stay there, and don't get up!"

I ran back, my feet pounding on the sidewalk. When I came close, I heard dogs barking, and red and blue lights traveled the night toward me, staining everything in its range. I dove behind a tree and looked around it, seeing cop cars and police men standing around, flashlights lighting up the darkness, undoubtedly searching for me and Avery.

I turned back around, figuring out a plan. If I could cut across some backyards, hop a fence or two, I'd be able to grab Avery's dumb blankie and scoot right on by without getting caught.

I nodded to myself. That's what I'd do, then. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs to their capacity, and sprinted.

Shoes long forgotten, I felt cold black concrete under the soles of my feet, then grass covered with dew. A white picket fence barred my way, and I vaulted over it to the best of my ability. I'd like to say I cleared it easily, but it took a bit of struggling. The points jabbed me in the stomach, and I kicked with my legs and pushed myself over, landing headfirst. I shook myself, rubbed a hand through my hair, brushing it out of my eyes, and kept going.

One yard led into the next, one fence after another. I kept going in a straight line, pumping my legs for all they were worth, until I reached the street once more. A smile broke out on my face; I'd done it. I ran past the cops! Man, I thought stealing was a rush; there was nothing like –

A scream tore from my throat as a hand wrapped around my upper arm and pulled me backwards. I tripped and stumbled, but the large man behind me held me up. "Hey, I found him!" he yelled, craning his head toward his buddies.

"Where's the other one?"

_Avery_. I couldn't let them find him. The officer's grip was like a vice, crushing my arm. I sucked in a breath, built it up, and screamed as loud as I could, the sound building in my toes and erupting out my throat.

The officer, surprised, loosened his grip for just a second, but it was enough. I broke free, kicked him hard in the shin, and ran away, going straight for our home-of-the-moment. I bent down long and far enough to pick up Avery's blue blankie, turned on my heel, and burst out. I was met just outside with the officer from before. I was stunned for a second, and so was he. I kicked him again, but this time he was ready. Even as he doubled over, he grabbed my arm tightly, cutting off my blood flow. I cried out, snapped my head back, and bit down hard on his wrist.

He yelped, pushed me away from him, and shook his hand practically off his body. I ran, stumbled, got up, and ran some more. They shouted after me, but I kept going until the sound of footsteps faded away into a distant memory. I'd hardly noticed that I'd passed Avery, going a few more blocks than I needed to. I walked the rest of the way back in silence, the blankie dragging along the pavement behind me.

When I reached my little brother, the ends were split and frayed. He frowned, but said nothing, only saw the bruises on my arm and the blood on my mouth that I hadn't gotten around to wiping away. I shrugged my arm around his shoulder and started walking. "Come on, Avery," I said, just as I always did on any normal night. "It's time to move."

He nodded and didn't say anything. The walk was silent, dark, and cold. I played the scene back and forth inside my head, wondering where I'd gone wrong. Nothing like that had ever happened before. _Maybe they're starting to catch on,_ I thought. _Those cops knew who I was. They knew about Avery. One of the stores probably went to the police about me, described me, and when the cops pulled out an old picture of me and Avery from when they took us to the orphanage, they identified us. I should've expected it._

We found a park with one of those medium-sized stone bridges, under which we'd spend the night. I slept cold, Avery covered himself with his blankie. He was getting a little too big for it, but he scrunched up as tight as he could until it covered him from his chin to the tips of his toes.

I knew he wasn't asleep. I didn't even have to ask what he was thinking about. I knew.

"I'll be more careful," I promised. I could hear him take in a breath to say something, but I cut him off. "I won't stop, though. I can't."

Avery sat up. "But –"

"You don't understand," I interrupted. Avery shut his mouth, having long ago learned not to interrupt people – every time he did while our parents were alive he'd get yelled at. "I have to steal. If I don't, then you and I don't eat. We'd starve, and have to go back to that orphanage if we wanted to survive. I won't let that happen. I have to take care of us. Do you get it now?"

Avery nodded. "Okay. As long as you're careful."

"I will be," I promised him again. I knew that he didn't believe what he was saying, but he knew better than to argue with me. It was just as well.

He lay back down and stared up at the bottom of the bridge, huddling under his blankie. "I wish I could've seen them," he whispered.

I immediately knew what he meant. He was talking about our parents, wishing he had seen them dead. I understood his rationale behind it – he wanted something substantial, some memory to let him know that all this was for a reason – but I couldn't agree with him.

"No, you don't," I snapped, and turned so my back was facing him. He was quiet, and after a while I heard the soft, even breathing of someone asleep. I clenched my teeth, satisfied that no one could hear me, and cried.


	7. Chapter 6: Eleven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.**

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I just reread the whole story so far, and I'm ready to write more! Here goes! Hope you like!

**Speeding Cars**

**Part One: Lea**

**Chapter Six**

**Eleven**

I didn't steal again for a long while after that. We were constantly on the move. I figured that the cops around this area were still looking for us, so we had to get away from this city, find a new territory, and begin anew. After a week of traveling, sleeping at dusk and waking at dawn, we reached the next city.

And boy, was it a city.

The buildings were as big as Godzilla. There was a fast food joint at every corner, and Starbucks everywhere like sprinkles on vanilla ice cream. People in suits walked this way and that, always in a hurry, and there were other people without homes. They called themselves wanderers, and were almost like a society in themselves. They had hangout spots, recommended places to sleep, where not to hang out and places that would give you a meal or two on occasion. Avery and I hardly talked to any of them – most of them were grown-ups who would give us pitying looks, and I hated them for it – but we would listen to their conversations, figure things out from the things they'd say. After a while, it was like home again: familiar streets, favorite hangouts; we'd even made some friends in a gang made up of kids our age – they called themselves the Downtown Shooters.

There were seven members of the Downtown Shooters: Scott, the leader; Emmett, the right hand man; Chandler, the one with a knife; Eric, the one with a lot of big brothers; Dominic, the quiet one; Christopher, the wuss; and Pierce, the one who prefers to go by his middle name, Asher. Scott was the local sheriff's only son, and he and I became pals pretty quick. He jumped me, and I beat him up. We'd been on good terms since then. Emmett didn't like me all that much; he was Scott's best friend before me, and I guess he was jealous. Chandler was obsessed with his knife, and thought he was tough because of it, but once you took it from him he couldn't figure out what to do with himself. One time, Scott and I hid it while he was sleeping; he had a fit when he woke up and started crying. We laughed so hard, and I don't think he ever really forgave us, even when we gave it back.

I didn't really get to know the others too well. Eric mostly just threatened people with his brothers, who, as he told it, were part of an even bigger gang, but I think he was full of shit. Dominic never really said anything, but he could arm wrestle like no other. I don't think I ever beat him. Christopher and Avery were pretty good friends, since they were about the same age – Christopher was only a year older than him – and it was nice to have the runt off my back for a bit when we visited the Downtown Shooters. Pierce was from a backwater family, the kind that lets their kids smoke along with them and beat their dogs. He had a weird accent and said he wanted to be a cowboy. I didn't have the heart to tell him that they didn't exist anymore. Instead, I settled for calling him by his real name; that got me a few bruises, but it was fun seeing his face turn red.

Scott was a good friend, and certainly a good one to keep. Since he was the sheriff's son, he always knew what his old man did, and wouldn't hesitate to tell me what areas to steer clear of, and when I should lay low for a day or two. Mostly we stuck to their hideout, but I always refused to join their little cult. I didn't want to commit to anything, just in case I had to run away again.

Things were good for a while, but I knew a day would come where things would turn for the worst. They always did when it came to Avery and I. And eventually, that day came.

I was tired of stealing everything on my own, and figured Avery might have a better chance than I would, with him being so cute and loveable and all. Maybe people would take pity on him and give him a better chance than me.

"Also," I told him on our way to Grocables, the nearest grocery store, "what if we get separated for a while? You might have to fend for yourself, and you can't do that the way you are now."

"So, you're teaching me to steal things?" he asked to clarify, speaking slowly as if the words were sinking in.

I sighed and stopped him, looking into his eyes. "I told you, don't think about it like that. It's just… getting things for a better price, and this is the secret way to do it."

"Then why don't most people do it?" he asked when we'd resumed walking.

_Because it's illegal_ flashed through my head as a possible answer, but I knew he'd never do it if I said that. "Because they're scaredy cats and don't do anything fun." I pinned him with a stare. "_You're_ not a scaredy cat, are you?"

Avery puffed out his chest and set his face in stone. "No way!" he stated, and I smirked. The way he was walking, and how he was trying to be braver and stuff; it was kinda like he was trying to be a little like me. Maybe I was more of a mentor to him than I thought. Then again, he still slept with his blankie, even after I told him to get rid of it. "Besides, you'll be there, right?"

I blinked. I don't know why it struck me, but it did. Just in that little question, he'd basically said he felt _safe_ with me. He _wanted_ me there. I hadn't realized it before, but Avery had been the one giving me attention this whole time. I _was_ wanted by someone; it was him. I looked at him, my brow furrowed, like I'd never seen him before.

He'd really grown up. He wasn't the scared little kid he was when we first left that orphanage. He might not be as brave as me yet, but he was trying.

"You'll do great, Avery," I told him, looking back at the road. "I know you will."

He gave me a big smile, and I smiled back.

I think that was the moment when I accepted him as my little brother.

We reached Grocables soon after that, and I lead him to the soda aisle. We walked up and down, scanning the twelve can boxes for ones that were open. We found a few, nothing good like Pepsi or Mountain Dew; just the cheap stuff that no one ever really wanted. I put two in my pockets; Avery could only carry one.

Then we moved on the more important matters. We got crackers, muffins, some fruit – but steered clear of vegetables.

I turned to him and grinned. "You're not doing too bad."

His face lit up, and he smiled until his lips touched his ears.

I ruffled his hair and looked around. "Maybe we can go for some bigger stuff this time, huh?"

Avery followed my eyes. "What do you mean, bigger stuff?"

"I mean…" I found it and started in the direction, then thought better of it. I leaned down a little toward Avery and hushed my voice. "That GameBoy over there in the case, at the end of the aisle. This'll be your test, okay?"

Avery nodded, his face turning serious as he listened.

"Grab the GameBoy and act like you're playing with it. Then go off somewhere, like you're gonna show it to –" _your mommy_ "– somebody. Then, when nobody's looking, hide it in your shirt and go to the bathroom, then rip the label off, the one with all the black lines and numbers. Meet me at the entrance, and we're home free."

He shook his head vigorously, excitement in his eyes.

I smiled, but tried to stay focused. "Keep calm, okay? I don't want you blowing this 'cause you're pumped up."

"I won't!" he assured me, almost indignantly.

"Alright," I said. "I'll be waiting by the cash registers. Come find me when you're ready to go."

Avery turned and left, bounding down the aisle for the GameBoy. I sighed and shook my head, making my way for the entrance. _He'll be fine,_ I told myself. _Just you wait, he'll be running down here any second, tripping over himself like he always does._

I looked around, checking the people at the registers, and my eyes flickered to one specifically. A girl… Did I know her? She looked kinda familiar…

She turned to look at the candy displayed on the side shelf, and I saw her face.

_Marley…_

She'd grown up. Her hair was long again, and she was taller. She wore sneakers and cream colored shorts, with a soft blue shirt and a hat. Her face wasn't pudgy anymore; it was more defined, her eyes still shining with that kind of childish delight she used to get when she looked at my drawings.

I was mesmerized. I sat there, hidden by a fake tree, watching Marley and her mom check out of the grocery store. In the back of my mind, I knew that I should probably check up on Avery, but I wasn't thinking straight. I would've followed them out of the store had it not been for someone screaming my name.

The shoppers all stopped what they were doing, turning in fright and surprise as two police officers picked Avery up by his arms. He yelled and screamed, tears streaking down his face, and I could see the sheer terror in his eyes.

"Help!" he cried. "Lea! Where are you? Lea!"

But I didn't answer. I couldn't, not if I wanted to stay free. I waited until they'd left the store out the back door, then sprinted outside, running around the perimeter until I got to the back alley street. A cop car purred, the kind that looked like those things people drive when they're catching dogs to bring to the pound, the kind with bars in the back. Avery sat inside there, huddled in on himself, and I watched in silence as the policemen turned their backs to me to get in the car.

I ran forward, grabbing the cold metal bars in my hands. "Avery!"

He turned to me instantly, his eyes red and his cheeks wet. He looked so scared…

"Avery, don't worry!" I told him, my eyes starting to sting as I fought back tears. This was all my fault… "I'll come find you, I promise! I'll get you back! I won't let them take you away!"

The car started, and I coughed as exhaust poured down my throat. It was starting to move away.

"Lea!" Avery whimpered, crawling on his knees to the bars and grasping onto them, his small fingers curling around mine.

The car was moving so fast I had to run. I held on tight, but eventually I couldn't keep my grip. I just ran after it, reaching for him, as Avery cried out my name.

"I'll come get you!" I yelled, until he couldn't hear me anymore. "I promise!"

He was too far away now, the truck barreling through traffic, turning a corner and disappearing from my sight. I heard myself hit the ground before I felt my knees give way, and I did the only thing I could do left.

I cried.


End file.
